


burn like the cold

by meggiewrites



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: 100 percent self-indulgent, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Candlemaking, Established Relationship, M/M, Pre-Slash, Take Your Fandom to Work Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 18:13:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12965442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meggiewrites/pseuds/meggiewrites
Summary: When Bernd started to work as a candlemaker for the holiday season, he didn't expect it to come with a terribly annoying but also terribly cute co-worker. (The customers don't help either.)





	burn like the cold

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is 100% self-indulgent, since it's basically what I deal with on a daily basis when I'm at work. I'm aware this might not make a lot of sense to anyone who hasn't made a candle themselves before, or (even more unlikely) has worked as a candlemaker. But I saw the Take-Your-Fandom-To-Work tag ages ago, and I've already wanted to write a candle making drabble in another fandom but never did. And who knows, maybe some of you will enjoy it either way ...
> 
> Unbeta'd. Read at your own caution.

It was half past ten in the morning on a regular Tuesday, and Bernd was feeling grumpy. By now, the big group of students had left, leaving the small building mostly empty. It was getting colder day by day now, and working as good as outside – the art nouveau pavillon just a roof perched on a few intricate steel pillars, temporarily wrapped in thick tarpaulin – meant that Bernd was freezing.

On his left, Marc had started cleaning and sharpening the many kitchen knives they had laying around, ridding them of any wax that was still sticking to them. Bernd sighed, wrapping his arms around himself before shoving his hands into his pockets. They couldn’t wear gloves, as the fabric always stuck to the candles. After about six weeks of working here three days a week, Bernd wasn’t sure how his fingers hadn’t frozen off yet.

Marc shot him a look. “What?”

Bernd huffed. “Can you stop doing that? It’s quite annoying,” he said, referring to the noise that was produced every time Marc run one knife over another.

Marc lifted an eyebrow, and repeated the action. Bernd groaned. 

They’d first met at the meeting all the employees had to attend before the opening in early November (including the new ones like him and Marc) and even though Bernd had initially thought the shorter man was quite cute, by now he was mostly getting on his nerves; though he never  _ stopped _ being cute so Bernd was usually torn between despising him and wondering how Marc’s lips would feel against his own.

Somehow, even if there were over fifteen people that worked as candlemakers – which included assisting the customers in making their own candles, decorating the candles, refilling wax, cleaning the big wax pots and mass-producing candles on their own to sell them to people who didn’t have time to make some on their own but still craved some nice beeswax candles – it was always Marc that Bernd was stuck working with. It usually went well enough, since often there was someone else around, acting like a buffer between them, but whenever they were left on their own, Bernd always feared the situation might escalate in one way or another. 

And now, with no customers around (after the classes and their teachers left, it was usually quite empty during weekday mornings, with the first people slowly starting to come in around noon) but already with some stressful hours behind them, the tension run high.

Just as Bernd wanted to open his mouth to snap at Marc, who was still smirking at him with that provocative look in his eyes that never failed to rile Bernd up, the entrance opened, revealing a group of four tall men, huddling close together, talking and laughing. They stopped short once the noticed that the improvised tent was almost empty until one of them, tall, with a messy mop of dark curls, dusted with tiny snowflakes, his ears and nose red, came forward to the counter.

“You are open, right?”

Bernd put on a smile. “Sure! Every day from 10am to 8pm, up until the 21rst of December,” he mechanically recited their opening hours.

The dark-haired man nodded, apparently pleased, immediately making a beeline for the shelf where they kept the wicks, taking one off the rack without reading any of the instructions. Bernd winced.

Two of the other three, a tall blonde one wrapped in a dark blue coat, a voluminous scarf slung around his neck in a way so that it obscured the whole lower half of his face and a lanky brunette, smiling widely at his companion, slowly followed him, and Bernd was pleased when they actually seemed to pay attention to the instructions, paying no mind to the first guy who was already excitedly dipping the wick in the hot wax again and again.

Bernd grimaced, and when he looked back to the last guy still standing there, he could pick up some doubt in his eyes as well, frowning when turning back to Bernd.

“Is that how you’re supposed to do it?” he asked.

Bernd chuckled, but before he could say anything, Marc had appeared next to him, gently shoving him to the side, giving the customer a sugar-sweet smile.

“Not exactly. There are proper instructions on the white boards; but basically you’re supposed to dip the wick for about ten seconds the first time and after that about two seconds each time. But it’s really important that you wait long enough for the candle to cool down between each time you dip it, so that the wax doesn’t simply melt off again.”

The man nodded, casting another concerned look at where his friend had now been joined by the two other men, who were huddling close together, shoulders touching, before sighing again, casting Bernd and Marc an apologizing glance as he, slowly, joined the others.

 

Mats was making a mess, as usual. As a precaution, Bene had taken a few steps back, since the hot wax tended to splash quite a bit, especially when it came to the enthusiasm with which Mats but also Thomas tended to pull what was supposed to become their candles out of the pot.

Manuel was already frowning, Bene noticed, trying to shield his candle with his hands, slowly shuffling away from where Mats and Thomas, the chaos duo, as the two blonds had once dubbed them, had apparently started a contest who could make the thickest candle the quickest.

Sighing, Bene decided he’d probably be better off joining Manu, who had by now found another pot for himself. Since they were the only customers, he was sure no one would mind. His friend’s candle was already approximately two centimeters in diameter, the coat even and without wrinkles. Bene’s own looked presentable as well, though it wasn’t as perfect. 

He leaned in to Manu conspiratorially, causing the older blonde to raise an eyebrow at him, a smile tugging at his mouth.

“Do you think it’d do any good if we told them that patience is the key to candle making, what do you think?”

Manu snorted, pulling his own candle out of the wax in a fluid motion that looked like he’d been doing it for years before taking one step away from the pot. “The worst thing is, Thommy  _ does _ know.”

“And Mats wouldn’t listen to me anyway.” Bene grinned, then sighed mockingly. “Tell me again why we’re so infatuated with them?”

Manu let out a chuckle, his eyes searching for Thomas’, the look on his face so incredibly fond that it was a miracle he decided to remain by Bene’s side when he found them. Thomas just grinned at him, showing him a thumbs up. Manu’s smile grew wider as he awkwardly returned it before turning back to Bene.

“‘Cause I love Thomas and you love Mats, and that includes occasionally putting up with …”

He was interrupted when with a loud plop, Mats’ candle fell into the wax pot – which was of course immediately followed by an exasperated outcry from its owner.

 

Bernd had left it to Marc to explain that once a candle had fallen into the wax, there was nothing much to be done. “The wax is between 70 and 90 degrees hot; the candle will most likely be melted before we’d be able to get it out.” Also, your candle looked more like a carrot with cellulite, he didn’t add, but the look he’d shot Bernd once the guy had returned to his friends with a frown made it clear that Marc had been thinking the same thing.

“And why is mine so uneven?” The lanky guy asked, walking up to the improvised booth, critically side-eyeing the candle of the tallest blond of the group, which was probably one of the best first tries at candle making Bernd had ever seen. Nice even coat, no white stripes on top, slightly thicker in the bottom, no ripples. Impressive. Especially compared to the one the man who had asked the question was holding, it was a true masterpiece.

Marc sighed, clearly also tired of answering the same question they’ve been asked over and over again, mostly by people who were to lazy to read the instructions, or who, for some reason, were apparently too stupid to follow them.

“Because your candle is too hot. You need to let it cool down to like, body temperature.” 

The guy sulked for a moment before suddenly starting to grin again, shrugging. “Eh, who cares, we’re only here to have fun anyway. And you know what, Mats?” he turned to the dark-haired man, who as still pouting, “I did beat you after all. At least  _ I _ still have a candle.”

 

They were all peeking over Manu’s shoulder as he proudly placed his finished candle – three centimeters thick, perfect finish – on the table where the two employees cut and decorated them. They looked impressed too, Bene thought, even the taller, grumpy one, who was still busy trying to make Thomas’ atrocity stand.

“Could I get this pattern?” Manu pointed at one of the candles hung on hooks in front of them, three parallel lines running around the candle in delicate spirals.

The employee – candle making person? candle maker? – nodded, taking out what looked like an over-dimensional knitting needle from a tin can, where there were several of them in all shapes and sizes. With a few experienced touches, he placed the candle on the table in front of him, diagonally running the needle over it again and again, pressing the pattern into the candle.

Mats whistled appreciatively, causing the guy to shoot him a quick grin. Bene frowned, but was distracted when Thomas wrapped his arms around Manu’s waist, pecking him on the cheek. “Well done angel” he murmured, only pulling back when Manu shot him a look, faltering, letting go of him, shuffling his feet awkwardly while Manu shoved his hands in his pockets, lowering his eyes.

Though when Bene studied the two men behind the counter, neither of them seemed appalled or shocked by Thomas’ sudden display of affection; the one who had decorated the candle even offered them a warm smile when he handed the candle back to Manu.

Apparently, that was enough to rid Manu of his insecurities, who then turned to beam at Thomas, offering him his hand which the younger man eagerly accepted, locking their fingers together, tugging him towards the cash desk.

Bene’s candle didn’t gather as much attention as Manu’s had, but he still thought it looked close enough to the ones they were selling. He went without a pattern, and though Mats whined that it would look a lot prettier, he quickly shut up when Bene grinned at him and retorted that if he’d been more careful, he’d have his own candle to decorate.

 

It became quiet in the pavillon when the four men – actually two couples, Bernd had decided when he’d seen the dark haired guy and the shorter blond bump their shoulders together as they were leaving, their hands brushing as if on accident (but he’d seen the interlocked pinkies) – had left. Even if only minutes later, a mother had entered with two children; it was nothing compared to the joyous laughter.

He caught Marc wistfully staring at the entrance, leaning against the counter.

“You thought he was cute, didn’t you? Tall, dark and handsome, I mean.” Bernd wondered why there was so much bite in his voice.

His stomach leaped when Marc’s responding smile was somehow more timid than Bernd had ever seen it. “That’s not it. Well, he wasn’t bad on the eyes, I admit. I … I just miss it, y’know.”

“Love?” And dammit, since when did Bernd allow himself to openly show interest in Marc-André ter Stegen’s (which was, by the way, the most pretentious name he’d ever heard) love life?

Marc nodded, resting his chin on his hands. He looked beautiful, with his slightly reddened cheeks, a few strands of his dark blond hair having escaped from underneath his beanie.

“Well.” Bernd coughed, then gulped before resting his back against the counter, leaning back just enough so that he could face Marc. His heart beat in his throat. He had no idea where this sudden courage came from. 

“You finish at six, too, right? Would you maybe like to get some mulled wine afterwards?”

The way Marc beamed back at him was all the answer he needed.

**Author's Note:**

>   * Candle making is a tradition where I come from, I've been doing it every winter since I was around 6 years old. When I was 18, I started working there.
>   * In my opinion, what kind of candle someone makes says a lot about their personality. If they're patient and meticulous, they will end up with an even, classic candle with an even coat and a nice shape. If they're impatient, childish or just too dumb or unwilling to follow the instructions (or read them), the resulting 'candle' will look like a carrot (thicker on top, thinner on the bottom, with ripples that actually _do_ look like cellulite) More artsy personalities prefer to get their candles decorated, some more fanciful, some more plain and neat-looking. Others will prefer to go without a pattern, leaving them with a simple but beautiful candle usually indicating practicality and ambition
>   * (Yes, I know I sound pretentious af, but that's just the observations I've made after working as a candlemaker for six consecutive winters)
>   * Initially I wanted Mats to drop his phone into the wax (which yes, has happened before, and yes, the phone was always completely fried afterwards – we keep one next to the cash, as demonstration why we don't allow phones) but I decided to be not that cruel after all
>   * As an employee, I'm both Marc and Bernd. They're basically a two-person self insert in here. (Except that I never had a cute co-worker to crush on)
>   * I didn't really know how to describe the process or the equipment for making a candle in English, so I apologize if it isn't clear to you – feel free to ask me stuff, though!
>   * I write FICTION about real people. None of this is intended to harm them or their reputation in any way
> 

> 
> Please leave kudos and maybe a comment if you liked it! | [tumblr](http://manuelmueller.tumblr.com/)


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